by Scott Rhine
Then he caught her foot. Grinning, he held it fast. Drawing her survival knife, she slashed his forearm. When he let go, she planted her foot on his face mask and pushed off as hard as she could. When she broke the surface, her breathing was almost a braying sound. The first gasp pulled in a little water and she spent several minutes coughing up the excess. The instructor wouldn’t let anyone pull her out until she touched the side of the pool.
The moment she tapped, Herkemer pulled her out one-handed like a prize bass.
The Seal laughed, “Looks like someone panicked.”
“Sir,” the tech announced. “There were no dye packs today. That’s real blood.”
The instructor dove in without gear to pull Merrick out. She checked the knife. It was clean. The tech sent them to the locker rooms to get dressed. The rest of the class was canceled.
When they gathered poolside afterward, the instructor announced, “Mr. Merrick’s mask shattered and scratched his face as it twisted sideways.” Glaring at Red, Rogers said, “He’s going to have to fly out for plastic surgery. That won’t take long, but he’s not going to be able to help out in the pool for the rest of the semester.”
Red said, “Do I need to file a report with you, sir?”
“Mr. Merrick swears it was an honest accident and no charges will be filed. Do you have anything different to add?”
Herkemer squeezed her arm in warning.
“No, sir.”
“Carry on.”
After people dispersed, Toby whispered, “Blind them first.”
Red snapped to alert. “What?”
“He’s a Rex. You tried to blind him,” Toby said.
“He grabbed my ass, and when I objected, he was going to hold me under until I couldn’t.”
Herkemer cursed.
Risa shuddered. “He doesn’t do buddy breathing by sharing the regulator; he does it mouth to mouth.”
“All the same,” said Toby. “You just declared war on your lifeline in survival training. Watch your back. People wash out real easy here.”
“Maybe I should offer to airlift him,” Red decided.
Risa shook her head. “You’ve got cabana duty and a five o’clock class, chica.”
Remembering, Red closed her eyes. “Just when I thought today couldn’t get any worse.”
“You were the one who insisted on the loco load,” her roommate insisted.
“What?”
“One more credit and the dean would’ve had to sign your slip for permission. You’re all kamikaze, so I figure you like it this way.”
“I’ll see you at supper,” Red said, seething inside.
At first, she handed out towels as advertized. When the entire next class had a towel, she was sent to clean toilets. Without her ball cap, she had to tie her hair back. The more she cleaned, the angrier she became at the woman who’d assigned her this chore. As she plunged an obstructed toilet with a plunger, she envisioned a stabbing weapon. “Take that you bleached-blonde.”
Zeiss poked into the bathroom. “What are you doing playing around here?”
“Come to laugh at me? Your idea of a joke? I saw on your pad that you sent a message to Horvath right after we met. You two probably planned this out together,” Red said, shaking the plunger at him.
“I had to file a report. I used emergency channels and she’s the head of security.”
“Well . . . you put me in too many classes.”
“I gave you exactly the math you requested. Everything else was straight out of the handbook. Did you read the handbook?”
“No. But—”
“Would you have listened to me if I’d advised you not to?”
“No.”
“I know your type. Hell, I am your type. You’ll push yourself till you succeed. And next time, because it didn’t kill you, you’ll add a little more. I prefer to think of it as optimism, not masochism.”
Her anger faded as she felt his emotions. Zeiss seemed genuinely concerned for her.
“However, you still haven’t downloaded the quantum physics’ paper for discussion this evening. Dr. Chau is going to expect you to contribute. Don’t you read your e-mail?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“It was bad enough that you had fourteen back homework assignments from Tensor Mechanics, plus studying for the midterm that’s a quarter of your grade in Alien 101,” her adviser said.
The plunger drooped as the magnitude of the work hit her. “Don’t let there be a ‘but’,” she begged.
“But one of your instructors phoned Dr. Chau and said you’re a troublemaker who expects special treatment. I don’t know which one. At the rate you’re making enemies, it could’ve been the bloody dean himself. Now Dr. Chau wants you to watch each of his previous lectures and pick one of the questions he asked the class from each lecture, nine in all. He wants you to submit a three page essay on each of the questions.”
Her pale face froze.
“Don’t panic,” he said. “I told you I’d help, and I will. I talked him into spacing the essays to only one a week for the rest of the semester, due Friday at the start of class.”
For a long moment, she had no words. “Why are you helping?”
The tall man stared at the ceiling. “Does she ever listen? Because you asked and I agreed. Honestly, I’m starting to regret that, but I keep my word. If you don’t hold up your end, Dr. Chau will never take one of my students again. This may be all a game for you, but teaching is my livelihood, my career. My word has to mean something.”
Still stunned, Red muttered, “I’ll take care of that now. I can watch his class from my goggles in my room.” After a pause, she added, “I won’t let you down.”
****
When Risa offered to cook the meal for her, Red made a difficult decision. Trusting her Empathy talent, she shared the freezer combination with her roommate.
The team helped her through the worst of that first week. Sojiro patched her goggles into the school network and Herk wired the voice controls. At 1800, Red walked up to the front door of Trina’s pod. She didn’t knock, but shouted, “I know you’ll hear this; you hear everything.” Enunciating every word, she said, “I’m not going to quit.”
Then she stormed back to her room to cry and do ridiculous amounts of homework well into the night.
Chapter 9 – First Friday
As students arrived for Armed Combat class Friday morning, a bedraggled Red wandered into the smaller dojo. People stared. One man struggled with his fencing facemask; she casually adjusted it for him and handed it back. “The shared masks suck; invest in your own if you’re serious.”
She read a poster on the wall, “‘Sodas add salt to make you thirsty. Don’t waste water.’ Between this and the data security posters, it’s like a surreal war movie.”
“Can I help you?” Zeiss asked pointedly. Then he noted, “Isn’t that the same outfit you had on yesterday?”
“Congratulations; you know your colors. I haven’t been to bed yet, thanks to that essay. I hate writing.”
“I’m sure he’d take a six- to ten-minute oral presentation.”
Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “What?”
“You were going to tell me why you’re here?”
She snorted. “Why are you here? You don’t know kendo.”
“Step into the hall, please,” he hissed. “I’m supposed to give you a demerit for disrespect and entering the dojo without permission.”
“You’re avoiding the issue.”
“When I quit hockey, my dad made me take fencing. He said he didn’t want to raise a pansy.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes.
He’s ashamed of being gay, she thought.
Zeiss continued. “In college, I shifted to Aikido, which uses a lot of sword moves. It also shows you how to disarm an opponent without either of you dying. Right now, I spend most of my time doing set up and as a practice dummy, but Professor Sorenson is teaching me.”
“He’s training you to be
his replacement because he can’t have kids of his own. If you’re not careful, you’ll be cleaning up after the old pervert for the rest of his life.”
Given what he knew about his boss, Zeiss was shaken. “That’s . . . his business, and this time I will give you the demerit for disrespect. Professor Sorenson’s assistants all go on to great posts with the highest recommendations.”
“Consolation prizes. They all screwed up,” she insisted.
“Like you did when you put that virus on my pad?” he replied. She blanched. “I don’t know whether you did it on Sunday or in class. But that was stupid. Violating data security is one of the things that can get you tossed from this program or put in prison.”
Red was speechless as he lectured. “It was clever, a variant of the video-blocker code Fortune Multimedia puts out. It erases patterns on computer disk and memory.”
She stared at him in panic.
“But . . .” he said, allowing her to breathe again. “Technically, you only destroyed your own data. So I’m only giving you a second demerit for vandalism.”
“Thank you. My own data . . . How did you find out?”
“I checked on PJ Smith’s file after your display in class,” Zeiss explained. “He has three daughters. However, the one about your age has no photograph available, here or on the corporate mainframe.”
“Please don’t tell anyone,” she begged.
He pointed to his own chest. “I can keep secrets, Miss Smith. You need to keep a lower profile.”
Red didn’t correct him about the name. The near miss was too terrifying. She just nodded.
“I start class in one minute. Tell me how I can help you,” the blond TA said with amazing calm.
“They don’t have dry cleaning in this place!” she complained.
“Or maid service,” he replied sarcastically.
“I know, Risa just told me. I figured she came on Saturday morning like everywhere else.”
When Zeiss just stared in disbelief, she continued. “Well, what am I going to do?”
“Learn to do laundry?” he suggested, looking around to see if he was being recorded.
“It’s like you people are reading from the same script.” Then she hissed, “This is custom-fitted, bulletproof material. I couldn’t wash them in a Laundromat if I knew where one was.”
He opened his mouth and shut it again. Pursing his lips, he counted silently to ten. “There’s a laundry room in the entry pod of each meta-pod—it’s the door across the hall from the security station. Have your roommate teach you about hand-washing delicates. Get the stuff they make for fancy sweaters. I’m sure one of the other girls could loan you some. Meanwhile, buy a pair of BDUs from the BX. They make them in most of the same colors as your suits, and they have the same pockets. I also suggest you go back to the clinic and take a nap. You need one and Dr. Marsh will write you an excuse.”
“Really?” she said. “The same colors?”
He smiled. “Nap first. Time’s up. Goodbye!” The tall TA turned on his heel and returned to class.
****
Red awoke at 12:45 that afternoon, just in time for Extreme Environments. She told the nurse, “God, that felt good. Now I’ve got to go shopping.”
The nurse shook her head. “You have a potassium imbalance and need iron.”
The girl shrugged. “So I have my period and need to eat bananas and meat. Give me a shot for now.”
“I can do that, but Dr. Marsh is ordering you to report next week for more blood work.”
“Ordering me?”
“Brain chemistry imbalance in monitored talents is grounds for getting washed out of the program.”
Red muttered, “Just because you’re paranoid, it doesn’t mean someone’s not out to get you.”
“Pardon?”
“Shot, please.”
****
Red arrived late for Extreme Environments, but they accepted the medical slip. Her classmates were already in their spacesuits. Risa helped her gear up because Red had never put one on and the techs were avoiding her. The first drill was attaching a refill hose to a simulated spacecraft’s water tanks. The second drill was repairing a leak in that same water tank. Herkemer rescued Red by breaking a recalcitrant lug nut. After an hour underwater in a bulky spacesuit with insufficient cooling, she reeked of sweat and looked like a Raggedy Ann doll that’d been caught in a storm drain. Again, the tanks ran out of hot water before she got her turn in the shower.
When Red tried to head home, Sojiro caught her. “You weren’t at Alien 101 today, but Sorenson scheduled a special session in the amphitheater—we get to watch someone read a page!”
“Who?”
“The new diving assistant who’s replacing Merrick is reading Body Override.”
“A Rex? No, thanks. I’d sooner watch someone get alien eggs laid inside them in one of those science fiction movies.” She’d only seen part of one such film on cable and had nightmares for weeks. Her father had installed rigid parental controls on all the TVs on the estate after that.
“Don’t talk like a bigot around the mils,” the Japanese artist said, wincing at the analogy. “Attendance is mandatory. We have to observe and explain the reading process before we can go through it ourselves.”
She bit her lip. Red would never need to read a page; she had all the talents a person was legally permitted and more. However, if she didn’t attend, people would ask questions. “Fine.”
People from their class and many military upper classmen gathered for the event, making the main lecture hall standing-room-only when Red arrived. “Why so many?” she asked Sojiro. The noise of other conversations made communication difficult.
“To be chosen is a great honor,” he explained. “We only get this page once a semester. Competition is steep. The candidate gets a special rank and everything.”
“People should be wearing black, not celebrating,” she muttered. “It’s the most feared page in existence.”
Behind her, against the wall, Zeiss whispered, “Actually, Empathy is the most feared page in the world. We only get that twice a year.” The TA checked their names off on his attendance sheet.
“Shut up!” Red exclaimed.
Sojiro nodded. “He’s right. After Benny Hollis retired, the UN assembly united to ban empathic ambassadors. People are afraid of losing their secrets and being manipulated, especially when you can’t prove the offense in court. Everyone likes working with Ethics pages, but they’re pretty rare.”
Red panicked for a moment. “I thought any Rex had to have Ethics or Empathy to balance him, to prevent him from becoming a killing machine. What’s to stop someone from making an army of these monsters?”
“The price tag of about a million a year for one of these guys’ medical treatment, and anyone with Collective Unconscious can see them coming,” Zeiss reasoned. “By age thirty, the Overrides who survive have the body of an eighty-year-old: prosthetics, arthritis, hip and joint replacement. Given the average career of ten years, the Academy accepts ethics training, two years of psych evaluation, proven group loyalty, and Collective Unconscious to bind him to other humans.”
“That’s not enough,” she hissed.
The TA shrugged. “The UN approved the change last year, along with increased penalties for crimes committed by Actives.”
“After Ambassador Hollis died?” she asked, regretting that she hadn’t followed politics more closely.
“No, it was one of his last compromises,” Zeiss explained. “Others wanted Empaths to wear some sort of symbol or special clothing in public.”
“Like a Star of David,” Red said, rubbing the area over her own heart. Her dad had made the deal for her. “What else did he give up?”
The TA said, “Non-signatory countries can have access to read Collective Unconscious.”
“But they didn’t agree to the ethical code!” she said, outraged.
The blond mathematician said, “The thought was letting them have a taste might e
ncourage countries to join. The strategy has worked with two smaller countries already. It reduces fear and overreaction in hostile countries when they can see Actives coming. Besides, they could already get the talent through infection or agents defecting. This way, we get the goodwill—brilliant statecraft.”
She snorted. “I bet it was his plan all along but he made them pay a high price for the concession.”
Zeiss wasn’t listening. He placed a finger to his lips as Dr. Marsh opened the curtain on the stage. A man in a hospital gown was bound to a heavy slab by numerous straps.
Over the sound system, the doctor said, “Silence, please. I don’t approve of this spectacle, but the rest of the candidates need to see what you’re volunteering for. Unlike most pages, Override doesn’t cause the recipient to pass out peacefully while it reformats the brain. We have to inject candidates with anti-inflammatory drugs, muscle relaxants, and palliative narcotics. The page teaches them to secrete adrenaline and endorphins at need, but the day of training is like running a marathon while infected with Ebola.”
A soldier rolled a cart out that contained a metal suitcase. Red could tell he was a Rex himself. He had to be to protect the page or be able to touch it safely.
Red turned to face the wall, closing her eyes. “Don’t do it.”
“The candidate has been fasting for days to prepare. Every muscle in his body will seize at some point. The pain is incredible. Even with the pads on the restraints, he’s likely to give himself permanent scars as he strains to escape. But if he perseveres, he will be an invaluable asset to the Sirius program. In the face of this incredible bravery, I would ask for respectful silence.”
In the quiet, they could hear the locked courier case snick open. The soldier stood next to the candidate’s head, took the golden slip of alien paper out of the padded interior, and moved it reverently over his face. The action resembled a church sacrament. Red’s stomach twisted in anticipation. The man on the slab watched words appear on the page in his native language. The moment he finished the first line, Red could sense the burning sensation start in his spine and spread outward. His muscles underwent a process that reminded her of rigor mortis.